


Ma'am

by coffeehousehaunt



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Lost Girl
Genre: F/M, Porn Battle, Porn Battle XV: The Ides of Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeehousehaunt/pseuds/coffeehousehaunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because the first thing you do on arriving in an alternate dimension is find out where they keep their booze. Or, at least, that's what Tamsin does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ma'am

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Tamsin/Jack Harkness, vodka.

"So," Tamsin's dry voice drags Jack's gaze up to the door to his narrow bunk, and he takes his time getting to her face. She's slouched against the frame with a half-smirk and a glint in her eye that he doesn't see often enough on anyone. A buzz starts under his skin. "The Doc have anything to drink on this boat?" 

"Him? Nah. He's a lightweight. Think I got a bottle stowed here somewhere if you want, though." Things can shift around, in the TARDIS, and she's regenerated since he last saw her. He reaches under the bunk. 

"Well, don't hold out on me, soldier." There's something in how she says it that chills him. Familiar, fine, and it's common enough she could just be hitting on him, but the way she says it... Con artist? Bounty hunter? Someone with enough resources to know about a person who doesn't exist. 

Dangerous and rocking the Nordic ice princess look. Well, it could at least be fun. 

His hand closes around the smooth, cool glass. And he could _kiss_ the old girl--it's full again. Best vodka ever made, regenerated right along with her. And whaddya know, enough for two. He sits up and looks at Tamsin blankly. "What, this old coat? It's just a replica." 

She leans in and wraps her fingers around the bottle, and his hand. Strong and warm, and a little rough. Her lip curls, icy eyes all challenge and spark, and it goes right to his cock. "No, it's not. I was there." 

She pulls the vodka out of his hand before he can completely process the implications of that, turns around, and swaggers to the door, and for a moment, he lets the plotting take a back seat to that backside. "You're coming," she says matter-of-factly over her shoulder. 

_Yes. Yes, I am._

* * *

Half the bottle in, she straddles his lap, rolling her hips and heat down against him, and he gets hard. Her knee brushes his holster, trapping it in. Adrenaline flashes through him, and she smirks and tightens her legs around his hips. 

"That's a pretty big gun. Good to know you're not overcompensating." 

"Lady, I don't play with toys." _Toy guns, at least._

She laughs at that. "Don't call me "lady.'" 

"Yes, ma'am." Habit, instinct, discipline. 

Her lips curl and her eyes spark at that, and she slides off him and unsnaps her jeans. "Take off your pants." 

"Yes, ma'am." _Girl on top_ , he thinks. _Pegged it._

So to speak. 

She strips her jeans off and pushes him back in the chair, moves to straddle him. Works him with her hand til he's completely hard, and then sinks down on him. 

She's tight, slick. A growl crawls up out of his throat as she pushes down over him, lips curled over her teeth. His hips thrust up hard, burying his cock in her, and he grabs her thighs. It's a matter of seconds before she's sliding easily around him, ridges and rough spots and soft skin and all of it hot, all of it sliding along the length of his cock, and it takes up with the buzz of the vodka in his head, and he's high and hard and deep inside her. Another growl when she clenches on him, reminds him who's on top. That sneer--almost contemptuous, breath rough and deep while she rides him, hips rolling, muscles in her thighs and cunt working. Been a while since he got that kind of attitude from someone who could back it up. 

He gets his hands under her thighs and puts a some muscle into it, lifting her hips up a little higher so he can push deeper, harder, better angle. She snarls a little, and opens for him, works with him, breath catching low in her throat when he slams into her. Tightens on him by degrees, til he can feel the tension gathering, the tight throb inside her, and he's panting because he can feel every inch of her working the length of him, dragging against him, pulling him into her. He drives his hips into her and sinks his teeth into her neck, shoulder, along her collarbone, feels the hot gathering in his groin, one of her hands in his hair and nails in his scalp, the other down between her legs on her clit, knuckles digging into his skin with each thrust. 

He can feel her coming. When it becomes almost inevitable, the rasp of her breath hot on his ear, fingers tightening and her hips fucking down on him, and then the catch, the feral sound right against his ear, clench, throb, pull--

A growl rumbles in his chest, he grabs at her hips, slides one hand up to her shoulder and works into her as deep as he can, forcing her open while she clenches down, so fucking _good_ , and he can feel it building in his muscles, coiling--

He swears and feels it go off, his hips arching up, slamming into her. _Fuck._

She's up and pulling her clothes back on almost faster than he is. Before she leaves, she turns and nods to him. "Thanks for the drink, Captain."


End file.
